


Together At Last

by myheroesrbands



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional, Fluff, M/M, Sentimental, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheroesrbands/pseuds/myheroesrbands
Summary: The fine lines that had adorned Bato’s face never changed. They were there, just like his voice, to remind Hakoda that someone was there for him. Someone was there to love and care for him when he needed it most.
Relationships: Bato/Hakoda (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105





	Together At Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after 1x15: Bato of the Water Tribe and is where Bato reunites with Hakoda!
> 
> This is also my first A:TLA fic so yeah! I'm stepping my foot into the fandom with my favorite ship at the moment that I believe deserves way more attention! 
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoy this!!

It had been two days since he’d caught up with the Southern Water Tribe warriors. 

More importantly, it had been two days since he’d been reunited with Hakoda after weeks apart. 

On the first night of Bato’s return, he was welcomed with open arms — his brothers and fellow warriors all embracing him and expressing how glad they were that he was back with them. And of course, he took all the compliments and comments in good stride — he’d been doing that for _years_ as Hakoda’s second-in-command. Even with all of those comments, the only person he wanted to hear from was Hakoda. 

Hakoda, however, had been suspiciously quiet since he had spotted Bato entering their camp. He’d watched the way Bato was interacting with the other men — the way his smile slowly crinkled up toward his eyes more and more by the night’s end and the way he was visibly comfortable sitting around the fire and sharing stories of his time at the Abbey with the other warriors. Hakoda seemed to be soaking in the moment — Bato was _here_ , and he was real, and he was as happy as he could be. 

Hakoda’s silence carried into the night and as the two of them made their preparations for bed in the Chief’s tent, it was borderline uncomfortable. Neither of them made the move to break the silence, and they slept on separate bedrolls. 

On the second night of Bato’s return, Hakoda had relaxed a significant bit. He and Bato had spent the day going over plans for their next advance on fire nation soldiers. They were planning on moving further into Earth Kingdom territory and Hakoda had insisted that Bato only tag along for reconnaissance. Bato had begrudgingly agreed, to Hakoda’s reassurance. 

It had been a long day for the both of them. Bato had to reacquaint himself with the workings of the camp [they even let him help with preparations for their midday meal] and Hakoda spent the day going over strategies and writing letters to Kanna. It wasn’t until later that night, when they were preparing for bed, when they spoke to each other. 

Their voices were gruff as they spoke. They had clearly had a long, exhausting day, but they were actually speaking to each other.

And Bato was going to take advantage of that. 

He had lied on his own bedroll first — Hakoda was still moving some things around in their tent, and he had yet to put out the fire that was burning somewhere behind Bato’s head. He was resting his head on his raised right elbow and watching Hakoda work. The worry lines on his face were smoothing out, but he still looked as though something was clouding his thoughts.

“I saw the kids,” he spoke and Hakoda froze. It had been entirely too long since he had last seen his children — over two years to be exact — but… but Bato had seen them. 

Outside the Southern Water Tribe, sure. 

But he had _seen_ them. 

“What?” Bato picked up on the crack in Hakoda’s voice. The hands wrapped in the blanket he was folding had frozen and if he looked close enough, Bato would see the tears beginning to well up in Hakoda’s eyes. 

“I saw them, Hakoda.” He moved from his lying position to sit cross-legged on the bedroll. The ground was hard under his body but not uncomfortable enough for him to move and stop talking. “Katara and Sokka. They’re so big now. And they’re helping the _avatar_ get to the North Pole.” 

Bato could see the furrow of his eyebrows before Hakoda asked, “The _Avatar_?” Hakoda now looked at Bato to make sure that this was true. He’d heard whispers from Fire Nation troops that the Avatar had returned. A _kid_. And he was traveling with _his_ kids. 

“He’s a bright kid. An Airbender. And he cares for Sokka and Katara greatly.” Bato’s tone was comforting enough that Hakoda was finally able to let his guard down. Dropping the blanket and sitting on the bedroll stationed next to Bato’s but facing the taller man, Hakoda’s head fell to his own chest. Bato knew that trying to coax anything out of Hakoda would be futile, so he simply rested a hand on the shorter man’s right knee. The moment that passed between them was long but necessary. Each day the two of them were away from the Water Tribe, Hakoda had locked away his sorrow at leaving behind his children. 

Now he was forced to face reality. He’d left them. He’d left them in the Southern Water Tribe, and he knew in his heart then that he was doing the right thing and yet it still felt like he was losing this war. His breaths came out in shaky beats — representative of how long it had been since he’d actually sat and reflected on _himself_. 

“Koda,” came Bato’s voice, deep and grounding. Always there. 

“We’ve been doing what’s best to keep them safe. You knew that then and you have to believe it now. No matter where they are, they love you. And you love them.” 

Hakoda took a deep breath, pushing through the tears that had fallen down his face and looked up at Bato. The fine lines that had adorned Bato’s face never changed. They were there, just like his voice, to remind him that someone was there for him. Someone was there to love and care for him when he needed it most.

And right now, there was nothing more that he needed. 

“I took Sokka ice-dodging.” It was hard for Bato to whisper given how whenever he talked, the base of his tone lied in his chest, but the aversion of his eyes and the way he pulled his hand away to wring his fingers… Hakoda knew the intent. “I know it was important to you to be able to but I thought-”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” Hakoda cut him off and scooted closer to Bato, their knees now touching. He reached for Bato’s hands, wrapping his around them. He sighed before continuing. “You’re the only person I know they see as a second father. They trust you. And I trust you. That was just as much your moment to watch him grow as it would have been mine.” Bato smiled softly. Hakoda always had a way with words — it’s what made him such a great leader. But in these moments, the intimate ones between the two of them, he managed to articulate his feelings so much better.

Bato was grateful for it. 

Hakoda leaned forward to place his forehead on Bato’s reveling in the closeness of the moment. His eyes slid closed and he allowed himself to breathe. To let the feelings of sorrow — of inadequacy, of guilt — wash away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Those two words would never be able to convey everything he’s sorry for. He was sorry that Bato got burned. He was sorry he had to leave Bato behind. He was sorry for leaving the kids, for losing Kya, for being _here_ fighting this war instead of with his family. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I love you. I always will.” Bato’s voice was deep and at this proximity, Hakoda could feel the rumble from his chest. With his left hand still wrapped around Bato's hands, he fixated his right hand over Bato’s heart where the bandaging had been freshly changed for the night. It was a simple gesture but Bato understood the weight of it all the same. 

“I’m okay,” this time Bato’s voice was actually a whisper. At that, Hakoda opened his eyes and sat back to get a full look at the other man. “The burns will never _fully_ heal, but they will be fine. _I_ will be fine. You made the right decision taking me there. Don’t think otherwise.” Bato’s hand wiped at the dried tears on Hakoda’s cheeks and then came up to rest on his jaw. 

“I know that I just…” He trailed off, his eyes now looking anywhere but at Bato’s face. “I can’t help but feel responsible.” He lifted a hand to wrap around Bato’s wrist and sighed. 

“I know. It’s who you are. You take responsibility for everything. _Don’t_ take responsibility for this. I’m _okay_. I’m okay _because of_ you. If anything, that’s what you should take responsibility for. Okay?” Bato was firm and Hakoda pulled Bato’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it. 

“Okay.” 

A moment later, Bato was chuckling to himself. Hakoda’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The kids know about the blubber fiasco.” Hakoda’s eyes flew open in surprise, and he laughed out loud. 

“No!” he exclaimed in a faux-scandalous tone while leaning forward to Bato’s face, his eyes bright with mirth. 

“We were rascals weren’t we?” Bato asked — his face as equally lively as Hakoda’s. 

“And yet here we are,” Hakoda rasped before pressing his lips to Bato’s. 

“I love you,” Hakoda said after pulling away, his forearms now resting on Bato’s shoulders. 

“I love you so much.”


End file.
